I Won't Stand By
by hostilecrayon
Summary: Trowa notices Quatre has been overworking himself. Written for the GW500 cherry and winter prompt. 3 equals 4.


Title: I Won't Stand By  
Author: hostilecrayon  
Pairing: 34  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 1,197  
Warnings: Sappy sap, little angst  
Disclaimer: I own my Monster drink, but no Gundam Pilots.  
Notes: I've had the itch for some Quatre and Trowa. I don't know why. But this is what came of it, heh. I'd like some commentary on my Trowa, if you guys could, please. I don't write him often, because I feel like I have a really hard time getting his character right. I'd rather not write him than bastardize his character, if you know what I mean. So any advice would be greatly appreciated! Written for the GW500 cherry/winter prompt.

**I Won't Stand By**

"Thank you for helping me put together the case on Hendrickson. I couldn't have done it without you." Quatre pushed the little cherry red tomato around in his salad, unable to fully stab it with his fork without it getting away from him. He decided to give up for the moment and smiled tiredly at Trowa.

"Don't worry about it. He was threatening your business. I couldn't stand idly by, you know." Trowa's lips quirked upwards softly as he poked at his sandwich.

"I know. I'm just grateful that I can count on you." He opted to stab a crouton instead, glaring a little at the tomato. He brought the crouton to his mouth, chewing slowly, planning his next attack on the tomato.

"You can always count on me, Quatre. Always." Trowa smiled fully then, his eyes softening at the slight blush on Quatre's cheeks. He could see the snow falling through the window, and the white powder looked as if it were falling around Quatre, but even with its purity, it couldn't touch him.

Quatre poked at the little cherry tomato some more, completely unaware of Trowa's observations. His mind, though part of it was focused on the here and now, was a million miles away, thinking of crunching numbers and making deals. He wondered just when the businessman part of himself stopped shutting off. He couldn't remember the last time he slept the night through. There was always another proposal; another person trying to one-up him; another public appearance to make. The weekly lunches with Trowa were the only time he allowed himself to think of other things, but as tired as he was, his mind was still focused on business.

"It's almost Christmas," Trowa commented idly. He could see the dark rings around his friend's eyes, and he wondered if Quatre even remembered it was a holiday.

"So it is." He stabbed a piece of lettuce, letting the tomato live for another few moments. He'd get it next time. "Are we going to do the gift exchange at the house on Dane Street then?"

"Do you want to?"

Quatre's head shot up, looking Trowa fully in the eyes for the first time since they started their meal. "I'd like that." The intensity of Trowa's gaze was too much for him, and he looked away again. "But I'm not sure when. I have to file that case against Hendrickson and Cameo Packing Services is looking to close the deal I've been working on with them by the first of the year."

Trowa sighed. "Do you ever rest?"

Quatre stared at the little tomato. It was taunting him, he just knew it. He WOULD get it, he swore it. "I can't."

"You can," Trowa challenged.

"This business is very important to me, Trowa." He knew the pain was written across his face, but he'd be damned if he'd let his father's business die.

"It's okay that you care for your business. Just don't let it eat you alive like this." Trowa's voice was soft, his words calm and soothing, but inside, he could feel his outrage at himself for letting Quatre get this deep in stress.

"My father's business," Quatre corrected, taking another stab at the ever elusive tomato.

"No," Trowa retorted quietly, "It's your business." Quatre looked at him then, his eyes telling him he was wrong. He held up a hand to stop Quatre when he opened his mouth to contradict him. "It's true that he started the business. But you, Quatre, have kept it going. You, and only you."

Quatre looked to the side, examining the chair leg of the table next to him. "You don't understand."

"I do understand," Trowa almost whispered, "and I accept it. But you don't have to kill yourself to keep his memory alive."

"I just…" Quatre stopped abruptly, feeling the familiar sting in his eyes. Trowa DID understand. The words were useless to say, and he fell into a brooding silence.

"Take a vacation, Quatre. We've all been worried about you. I can tell you don't sleep at night. Take the holiday off and leave it to your vice president." Trowa stared at him intently, hoping he could get through to him.

Quatre let out a slow breath, a million things that could go wrong zooming through his head. "What if he messes up?"

Trowa quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't you trust your staff?"

Quatre stabbed at the tomato, sending it flying to the other side of his bowl. "I do, but… he just wouldn't do it the way I would."

Trowa sat up straighter, butterflies buzzing around his stomach at the thought of what he was about to say. "If he does something wrong, we'll fix it. Together."

Quatre's head shot up, his eyes widening in question. "Trowa?"

"I won't stand by and let you kill yourself over this any longer." Trowa's voice was still quiet, but there was a firm resolve that echoed through the diner much louder than if he had shouted.

Quatre felt flustered, half-heartedly trying to stab at the tomato he was beginning to think he'd never get to eat. "I… I'm sorry if I've worried you, Trowa, but…"

"But nothing. You're taking a vacation, even if I have to baby sit you to make sure you do." There was a finality in Trowa's voice that made Quatre stop for a second. He opened his mouth to retort, but he couldn't seem to find the words. He didn't really want to say no to his oldest friend. To his most important friend.

"Okay. I'll take a vacation. For you," He added quietly.

"Good." Trowa reached his fork across the table and stabbed into the little cherry tomato and brought it to his mouth. He grinned as he chewed it slowly and swallowed it.

Quatre looked at him dejectedly. "I was going to eat that, you know."

Trowa hesitated for only a moment, the fluttering in his stomach making him stumble as he stood from his chair. Quatre was just standing up, thinking Trowa was ready to leave when his lips were suddenly covered by warm, smirking ones. Stunned for only a moment, Quatre returned the kiss, timidly touching his tongue to Trowa's lips. They tasted pleasantly of the acidy tomato, and Quatre smiled into the kiss.

Trowa deepened the kiss, allowing Quatre's tongue access to his own, filling Quatre with the sweet taste of the little cherry tomato he had tried in vain to eat.

When they parted, Quatre could feel the tingling in his lips and he could still taste the tomato mixed with the cinnamon spice that was Trowa. For the first time, he noticed the snow falling outside, floating in the air behind Trowa. It was almost Christmas, and he'd already received his present.

He grabbed Trowa's hand shyly, and the touch warmed more than just the skin of his hand. He licked his lips slowly, pulling in more of the taste and bit his lip.

Sometimes it takes a while to get what you're after, and it doesn't always come in the way you think it will. But then, the end result is well worth the battle.


End file.
